Sea legs...
As I was outnumbered on the skating issue I gave in and we headed for the skating rink in Kungsträdgården, one of downtown Stockholm's grand garden squares. The rink itself is an octagonal death-trap around a statue, it is smothered in schmultzy Swedish pop music, and packed with reckless dare-devil skaters all day long. Honestly it was hardly the place to go for a nice evening skate--especially for a re-beginner like myself. The last time I was on skates I was six years-old. It was a kamikaze mission.
The whole way to the rink Grace and Leah were talking excitedly about the majestic joy of skating in the city's grand old park...
...while I was having visions of my near future....
...the pain...
...the chaos...
You see, I belong on the water...liquid water. Not this frozen solid stuff. For all my comfort and stability on a rolling deck, I am worthless as a two-legged creature on ice. Sea legs just are not intended for ice. Look it up in your Bowditch!
But for all my slipping and sliding, I dutifully put on a pair of skates and inched out onto the ice. Oddly enough, once I put on a pair of skates and began to scuffle my way around the rink in a cold sweat, it wasn't so bad. I think I like skating Sam-I-am!
THWACK!!
I went home with only a few major bruises...